Crisis of Conscience
by TXMedic
Summary: Sometimes we just end up in the right place at the right time. Complete. Please R&R.


The "Combat!" characters are the property of ABC. No profit is made from this work of fiction. Sorry I took so long to get this one finished. It's not an epic..it just kept getting pushed back due to one story on another.(LOL)  
  
Copyright 2001 by Melissa Roberts.  
  
Crisis of Conscience  
  
Loping ahead at point, Caje could hear the panting of the guys behind him. Not a word was said. Only the sounds of breathing, pounding feet and clinking of equipment broke the silence of the forest. Slowing as the trees began to thin somewhat, Caje peered at every shadow. Hearing a telltale click, he spun around and waved at the others even as he dove to the ground. "Hit it!"  
  
The rest of the squad scattered, taking shelter wherever they could find it as gunfire shredded the leaves around them. Caje squeezed off a few shots in the general direction he thought the assault had come from, then waited to see the flash of return fire.  
  
Seeing the muzzle flash from a clump of bushes off to his left, Saunders opened up with the Thompson. Glancing behind him, he saw Kirby already trying to sneak around the Germans' flank. They didn't have time for this. If the patrol behind them caught up.  
  
To draw attention away from Kirby, Saunders started to make his way to the opposite side. The German machine gun swung around to target the sergeant, giving Kirby valuable time to make his move. As soon as he heard the grenades exploding, Saunders charged the machine gun nest. Once he was assured the Germans were all dead, he turned his attention to his men.  
  
Seeing Billy and Littlejohn standing together, staring at the ground in front of them, gave Saunders a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The two soldiers had their back to him and blocked his view, but he knew someone was down. The only two men missing were Doc and Willie Trevor.  
  
Motioning for Caje and Kirby to keep a sharp eye out for the pursuing Germans, Saunders jogged over to the others. As he got closer, he could see Doc bending over a still form on the ground. Trevor.  
  
Nudging Littlejohn aside, Saunders pushed his helmet back and sighed. "Doc?"  
  
Not even looking up from his efforts to stop the bleeding, Doc shook his head. "It's bad, Sarge. We'll need a litter."  
  
Without him having to say it, Littlejohn and Billy trotted off to get some jackets from the dead Germans. Resting the Thompson on his hip, Saunders watched as Doc finished tying off the large bandage. "Will he make it back, Doc?"  
  
Wiping his hands on his trousers, Doc looked up with a small frown of worry. "I don't know, Sarge. Maybe."  
  
But, you don't think so. Saunders knew a litter would slow them down. The maps tucked securely away in his shirt pocket felt like lead. They had to get the maps back to Captain Jampel in La Celle. The Americans were planning a big push, and would need the location of enemy movements. Movements that were on the maps Saunders now possessed.  
  
Looking over at Littlejohn and Nelson, who were busy stripping jackets from the dead Germans, Saunders made his decision. Joining the two, he motioned for them to stop what they were doing. "Forget the litter. We can't take Trevor with us; he'll only slow us down. We'll never make it back to La Celle carrying him."  
  
Exchanging glances with Littlejohn, Billy frowned at his sergeant. "You mean we're just gonna leave him? But, Sarge, he'll die if we don't take him with us."  
  
"He'll die even if we do take him. Then, we'll all die with him and Jampel won't get the maps he needs." Saunders froze Billy with a glare as the young man started to argue again. He didn't like having to make that kind of decision, but had to think of the greater good. "Get ready to leave."  
  
Having overheard the conversation, Kirby jogged over to walk with Saunders. "Sarge, what if one of us stays with Doc to carry Willie back?"  
  
"Kirby, there are a lot of Germans between us and La Celle. I need every one of you to make sure this information gets back to Jampel. No arguments." Pausing a moment, Saunders removed his helmet and scratched at his bangs. "Tell Littlejohn and Nelson to give you a hand, and see if you can find a good spot to hide Trevor and Doc."  
  
"Doc?" Shifting the BAR's strap, Kirby shot the medic a worried frown.  
  
"You know Doc's not going to leave him behind. We'll come back for them when it gets dark, now get going."  
  
Rejoining Doc, Saunders raised an eyebrow. Doc frowned and shook his head. "We need to get him to a hospital."  
  
Kneeling next to the medic, Saunders pushed his helmet back and sighed. "Doc, we can't take him with us. He'll slow us down and we can't afford that. We've got to get this information to headquarters for the big push tomorrow. The others are looking for a place to hide Trevor until we can come back for him."  
  
With a weary half-smile, Doc nodded. He'd known they would have to make the decision to leave Trevor behind. He knew how important their mission was. Now, he had a decision of his own to make. Should he stay with Trevor, or go with the others? If he stayed, what if something happened to the others and he wasn't there? He knew Trevor was dying, and there wasn't anything he could do.  
  
Doc snapped out of his reverie when Kirby ran over to talk to Saunders. "Hey, Sarge, you'll never believe it. We found a small cave about forty yards to the east. It's the perfect place."  
  
Kirby proved to be right. The cave was the perfect place to hide the two men. It was small, but vines and brush helped obscure the entrance. Only Caje's keen eyes had spotted it.  
  
With Littlejohn's help, Doc carried the wounded man into the cave and got him settled as comfortably as possible. Joining the others outside, he watched as they gathered branches from nearby brush to help conceal the entrance from the German patrol that was hot on their heels.  
  
Motioning for the others to hurry, Saunders shifted the Thompson off his shoulder. Seeing the medic, he pulled him aside. "We're about to leave, Doc. You staying or going?"  
  
Sighing, torn between his duty to a wounded soldier and his duty to his squad, Doc shrugged. "Staying. I can't just leave him to die alone, Sarge."  
  
"I know, Doc. We'll try to come back for you after dark, but no promises. If we haven't shown up by morning, make your way back the best you can."  
  
"Sure Sarge." Doc knew as well as Saunders did what his chances were of getting back safely. Next to nothing. After the push in the morning, who knew where the American lines would be.  
  
Returning to the cave, Doc checked Trevor's bandage and frowned at what he found. He looked up at the sound of rustling, to see Kirby covering the entrance with branches. The two locked eyes a moment before Kirby put the last branch in place, blocking the light. Doc said a quick prayer for his squadmates, hoping they'd manage to stay ahead of the German patrol.  
  
After the squad left, the darkness of the small cave pressed in on Doc. He suddenly felt more alone than ever before. He knew his decision to stay seemed foolish to the others, but he couldn't force himself to leave a wounded man behind. The Germans had been close on their heels and it wouldn't be long until they caught up. Doc hoped that he and Willie would go undiscovered.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to concentrate on Willie's injuries. The abdominal wound had bled badly, though the flow was beginning to slow somewhat. The damage had been done, however, and Doc knew it. Willie had lost too much blood and Doc had no way to prevent the inevitable shock. The wounded man needed plasma, fluids and a surgeon. None of which Doc could provide.  
  
Even if he could get the wound to stop bleeding, there was almost certainly internal damage. He'd never felt so helpless. Or useless. There was nothing he could do, except see that Willie got relief from pain...and didn't die alone. It was going to be a long wait.  
  
When Doc heard distant, muffled voices, he scooted closer to the entrance. As the voices drew closer, he caught a few familiar words in German. Dragging Willie as far back in the cramped little cave as he could, he waited. As the minutes crept by, Doc's nerves were stretched further and further. Let them walk by, he prayed silently. Just let them walk by.  
  
He jumped, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling, when he heard angry shouts that sounded like they were just outside the cave entrance. Doc placed one hand over Willie's mouth, groping around for a large rock with the other. He had no other way to defend himself, although he knew it was useless. He knew those Germans were not going to be taking prisoners. They were in too big a hurry to catch the squad...and get the information Saunders carried.  
  
Gripping the rock, Doc held his breath. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and feel it racing in his chest. If the Germans found the little cave.he didn't even want to think about it. His heart pounded even faster as a loud voice sounded, seemingly, right outside the cave's entrance. His hand tightened around the rock.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, the voices receded and he was once again left alone in the darkness with Willie. Dropping the rock and sagging with relief, Doc let his hand slip from Willies face. He waited for his heart to slow down then crawled outside to check around. Sure enough, the soldiers were gone.  
  
Returning to the cave and sitting next to Willie, Doc sighed. The wounded man was already getting worse. Doc removed his helmet and propped Willie's feet on it, then draped his own jacket over the young man. It wouldn't help very much, but it was all he could do.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Pushing the squad as hard as he dared, Saunders led them back to La Celle. They'd gained a lead on the Germans and the sergeant wanted to keep it that way. The map he'd gotten from the maquis was very important. As they got closer to the village, they could hear the rumble of shells exploding.  
  
When the squad crested the last hill, they could see the buildings in the valley below them.in the middle of a barrage. Kirby leaned over to rest his hands on his knees, gasping for air. "Great, Sarge. Now what? Do we.wait for.it to stop?"  
  
"No. We'll just have to take our chances. Let's go, and keep your heads down." Waving his hand, Sgt. Saunders led the others down the hill and across the valley. Zig-zagging their way through the narrow streets, trying to avoid the craters left by German shells, the squad made their way to the temporary headquarters for King Company.  
  
Looking up as a shell exploded a little too close for comfort, Lt. Hanley raised his eyebrows in surprise when Saunders and his squad ducked through the door. Hanley did a quick head count and winced. Three were missing. "What've you got, Saunders?"  
  
"Sir, we met with the maquis. Here's the map they made of German movements in that area." Saunders pulled the map from his pocket and passed it the lieutenant. "Somebody must've tipped off the Germans, because one of their patrols was pretty determined to catch us."  
  
Glancing at the map, Lt. Hanley passed it to a private. "Get this to Captain Jampel immediately." Dropping into his chair with a heavy sigh, Hanley gestured to the men fanned out by the door. "Where are the others, Saunders? I see you're missing three."  
  
"Caleb was killed before we could get to the maquis. William Trevor was wounded pretty badly and we had to leave him behind. Doc insisted he stay with Trevor. We need to go back and get them." Even as he said it, Saunders knew that Lt. Hanley couldn't let them go.  
  
"You'll have to wait, Sergeant. You know as well as I do what comes after a barrage. We'll need every man we can get. The east end of the village needs reinforcements, so you and your men set up there."  
  
Nodding, Saunders gave the lieutenant a sketchy salute and gestured for his men to follow. He knew they'd all heard the order. Once more dodging debris, they made their way over to the church on the far end of the village. An OP had been set up, but they desperately needed men to help cover the ground floor. Setting up at the door and windows, the squad counted their ammo and settled in for a long wait.  
  
Wincing as another shell hit a building nearby, Kirby shook his head. "Sure wish I'd stayed with Doc. He's probably safe and sound inside that cave right now, instead of ducking shells here with us."  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
What little light that had found its way into the small cave, disappeared as the sun set. Every now and again, Doc would turn on his little flashlight and check on his patient. He knew it was only a matter of time. He settled his back against the cave wall and waited. It was going to be a long night.  
  
Shivering, Doc startled himself awake. He was horrified to realize he'd fallen asleep. What if Willie had gotten worse, or more Germans stumbled across their hiding place? Hastily checking the wounded man, Doc wasn't surprised to see that Willie was going downhill. Setting back against the wall, Doc drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin on his folded arms.determined to stay awake.  
  
Dawn was breaking as Willie began to lose the fight to stay alive. Light trickled its way into their cold, damp sanctuary. Total darkness gave way to shades of gray.  
  
As it grew easier to see, Doc could make out Willie's face. His eyes were closed and he had an almost peaceful look about him. Willie's breathing had been slowing over the last several hours and had now slipped into those last gasping breaths before death.  
  
Doc watched as the dying man's chest rose and fell. He waited for the next breath, wondering if that had been the last. An eternity seemed to pass until Willie's chest rose and fell again. Would that be the last? No...another rise and fall. So, as the sun rose on Willie's final morning, Doc waited.  
  
Rise and fall, rise and fall. They were getting further and further apart. Willie took another gasping breath. Doc waited for the next one. And waited. It didn't come. He watched the pulse throbbing in Willie's neck. As he watched, the throbbing slowed...and stopped altogether.  
  
He sat in respectful silence for a minute then placed two fingers on the side of Willie's neck to feel for the carotid. No pulse beat there. He was gone.  
  
Numbness seemed to spread over him as Doc reached over and removed one of the dead man's dogtags. If there was one thing he'd learned since being thrust into this new world...it was the fragile hold people had on life. Watching that last breath, that last beat of the heart...well, it was something Doc wouldn't wish on anyone. Yet, he'd witnessed it more times than he could count.  
  
How long he sat by Willie's body, Doc didn't know. He was emotionally and physically drained. So, he sat. He thought about his squad, wondering how many made it back safely. What if one of them had been seriously wounded and needed a medic.while he stayed behind with a dying man? Doc had no answer. That would be something he'd just have to live with.  
  
Those life-or-death decisions were hard. Knowing that a mistake, a wrong choice, could cost a life.it was a heavy burden, but someone had to carry it.  
  
A shiver jolted Doc back to the here and now. He was surprised to note that it had begun to rain, and the temperature had dropped in the little cave. Stirring himself to action, he picked up his jacket and slipped it back on. Doc grabbed Willie under the arms and dragged his body outside. Using his helmet, he began digging a grave.  
  
Standing up to work the kinks out of his back, Doc wiped mud and rain from his face. He decided the grave he was standing in was deep enough. Tossing his helmet aside, he reached over and pulled Willie into the hole, and lowered him gently to the ground. It took two or three attempts to crawl out of the muddy grave, but Doc finally managed the climb. He sat on his knees in the mud and pouring rain, his helmet in his hands, unable to make himself cover the young man's body.  
  
He began to shiver again, the cold rain soaking his uniform. Doc dredged up his resolve, dug a helmet full of muddy soil.and poured it over Willie's body. When he finished, he got up and looked around for something to mark the site. Returning to place where they'd been ambushed, Doc found Willie's discarded rifle and fixed the bayonet in place. Thrusting into the ground and placing the young man's helmet on top, he sat back on his heels and shook his head at the waste of a young life.  
  
Looking up at the dark clouds, blinking from the rain, Doc sighed. Now, how do I get back to La Celle?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Pacing the floor, scuffing his worn boots on the dirty stone floor, Kirby worried. They'd been stuck in La Celle all night, thanks to the German barrage and subsequent attack. The wiry BAR man was anxious to go back for Doc and Trevor. He cast a quick glance over at Saunders, but knew better than to ask again. He'd pushed his luck too far when he'd asked thirty minutes ago. The sergeant had just returned from a meeting with Hanley, though, so surely they were about to leave to retrieve their comrades. Surely.  
  
The look on the Sarge's face, however, confirmed what Kirby didn't want to hear. They had their orders to join in the attack on the German lines. They wouldn't be going back for Doc and Trevor. Doc was on his own.  
  
Shoulders slumped in defeat, Kirby stopped his pacing and flopped against the wall. Sliding down the cold stone, he sat on his haunches and rested the BAR on his knees. Kirby looked around at the rest of the squad and saw similar disappointment on their faces. Glancing back at Saunders, he waited for their orders.  
  
Watching Kirby as he went to sit down against the wall, Saunders worried. He worried for the two men he left behind, as well as for the men he'd brought back. Morale always suffered when a unit's medic was injured or killed. Or missing. He couldn't explain just why that was so, but he'd seen it a dozen times. He'd seen it when they lost their first medic, Doc Walton.  
  
Seeing the others waiting for their orders, Saunders removed his dripping helmet and rested the butt of the Thompson on his hip. "We're joining the rest of the platoon to hold our line to the west. We're to help make sure we don't lose any ground if the push doesn't work."  
  
Holding up a hand to forestall the protests he could see on some of their faces, Saunders frowned. "Look, I want to go back for the others just as much as you do, but we have our orders. Doc can take care of himself. He'll probably be waiting for us when we get back. Now, you know what we have to do, so let's get ready. Kirby-ordnance. Nelson-rations."  
  
Grumbling quietly to himself, Kirby stood with ill grace and made as much noise as possible as he gathered up his equipment. Caje rolled his eyes and looked over at Saunders with a hint of a smile. Oh, this should be fun.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Slipping to his knee again, Doc cursed the stubborn rain. Finding his way home through the Germans was going to be hard enough, without fighting the mud. He knew he was still probably better off than the squad. He'd heard the sounds of artillery most of the morning, and knew the push was well underway.  
  
Climbing back to his feet, the medic rubbed absently at his knee as he squinted against the rain in attempt to get his bearings. Without the sun to tell him if he was going in the right direction, he had no way of knowing how far off course he was.  
  
The barrage had ceased while Doc was taking shelter beneath a tree several hours ago, during the worst of the downpour. He'd waited over an hour for it to slack up enough to see where he was going. The lack of the muffled sounds of war had been more worrisome than welcome. He knew the squad was probably in the thick of it once the barrage lifted, and he now no longer had the booming guns to guide him.  
  
He'd been walking, or sliding in the mud, for half the day. Doc knew he should recognize something from Saunders' map by now. He was off course. He just hoped he was wandering toward the American lines, instead of the Germans.  
  
Doc hadn't had to walk much further to get his answer. Hearing German voices, the medic dropped to his stomach and slithered behind a fallen tree. Pressing himself as close to the moss-covered shelter as he could, Doc waited for them to pass by.  
  
Unfortunately, the German soldiers chose that moment to take a break. The sodden bark cold against his cheek, Doc gave an inward sigh at the bad turn his luck had taken. Loud voices began arguing, close enough to make the medic startle slightly at the sudden noise. He had no idea what the men were saying, but it was definitely a heated discussion.  
  
His trained ears picked up the low moans of pain nearby, even with the shouting competing with the sound of the pelting rain. Doc hoped it was a small group of stragglers he'd stumbled across, and not a patrol. A patrol meant he was closer to the German lines than was comfortable.  
  
Stretching his foot silently in an effort to ward off an impending cramp, Doc resigned himself to a miserable wait with nothing to do but watch the puddle he had his right hand planted in grow with every drop of rain. He wondered if the rest of the squad was okay.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Dropping to the ground with a boneless thump, Kirby leaned gratefully against a fencepost. It had been an exhausting day so far. The barrage they'd endured early that morning had been disconcerting in its intensity. But, the barrage had been the easy part. It was the fight afterward that had been the real test of their strength.  
  
The push by the Americans hadn't been as successful as they'd hoped. The lines had shifted, but not much ground had been taken, and some had been lost. It had been one big waste of good men as far as William G. Kirby was concerned.  
  
Kirby removed one of his boots and stared disgustingly at the revealed waterlogged sock. Looking around for the most likely person to give up a pair of dry socks, the wily BAR man found him hunched next to Littlejohn. Perhaps he thought the bigger man would block some of the rain. "Billy!"  
  
Hearing his name, Nelson pulled the collar of rain gear tighter and swiveled his head. The resulting trickle of rain down his neck made him shiver. "Yeah, Kirby?"  
  
"Billy, ya got an extra pair of dry socks?"  
  
"Yeah, what of it?" Billy knew perfectly well why Kirby was asking, and he'd eventually give him the socks. He just liked to wait long enough so that Kirby knew he wasn't pulling anything over on the younger man.  
  
"C'mon, Billy. If you don't need them, let me borrow them. Mine are soaked."  
  
"And let you wear holes in them? I don't think so." Despite the cold and rain, Billy almost smiled as Kirby's voice began to take on a wheedling tone.  
  
"Aw, c'mon. You could water crops with these socks. Be a pal, huh? Doc ain't here; suppose I start to get the rot?"  
  
The fun immediately went out of the argument at the mention of the missing medic. With a shrug, Billy joined Kirby and handed him the prized footwear. "Make sure you dry your feet before you put those on, or they won't do you much good."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who don't know no better."  
  
Leaving Kirby grumbling to himself once more, Billy returned to his spot by Littlejohn and hunkered down. Nodding his head to the two figures standing shoulder to shoulder by a jeep, Billy shifted his foot out of a puddle. "What do you suppose the lieutenant's telling Sarge, now? You think we're finally gonna get to go back for Doc and Trevor?"  
  
Staring intently at the sergeant as he folded the map the two had been looking over, Littlejohn shook his head. Saunders had expressive body language, and Littlejohn knew it was bad news. "No. Looks like it's something else, and Sarge doesn't like it. Come on, might as well get it over with."  
  
The private stood, pulling Billy to his feet. The two waited as Saunders joined them and waved Kirby over. Caje was already trotting up to hear their orders. Pulling his helmet lower to keep the rain out of his face, Saunders pulled out his map once more.  
  
"Hey, Sarge, did the Lieutenant say if Doc got back to La Celle yet?" As soon as he asked the question, Caje knew the answer was no.  
  
"Sorry, Caje. No word." Pointing to the map, Saunders laid out their mission. "Okay, we're going to swing west; the captain wants an OP set up in a mill.here. Now, with the lines altered the way they are, we may run into German patrols in that area. No engagement if we can help it."  
  
"Wait a minute, Sarge. What about Trevor and Doc?" Kirby thought for sure they'd be allowed to return for the men they'd left behind.  
  
"I'm sure Doc's on his way back by now, Kirby. We have our orders to hold that OP."  
  
"Hold it for how long?"  
  
"For as long as it takes, Kirby. Now get your stuff and get ready to move out." Saunders' tone and expression made it clear there would be no more arguments.  
  
Littlejohn dug an elbow in the wiry man's ribs when Kirby made as if to say something else on the matter. Unruffled under the force of the smaller man's glare, Littlejohn frowned. "You heard the Sarge, Kirby, so drop it. There's nothing he can do, and just where would you start looking? Back where we left them? Sarge told Doc to start back on his own if we didn't show up by morning. He'll probably get to La Celle before we can get to that mill."  
  
Finally considering the logic, Kirby relaxed fractionally. "You're probably right, Littlejohn. Doc'll be catching a nap under a nice, warm blanket while we're freezing to death in a rickety old mill. Some guys have all the luck."  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
At the moment, Doc didn't consider himself a lucky man. He was belly down in the mud, waiting for three German soldiers to finish with their argument so they'd leave. The fear of discovery had left him dry-mouthed, but he couldn't risk reaching for his canteen. Now, there was irony. Water all around him, raining down on him, and he was miserable with thirst. Opening his mouth, Doc let the rain trickle in best it could, providing only minor relief.  
  
As suddenly as it began, the argument ended. From the grumbling, the ones who lost the argument weren't doing it with much grace. The corner of Doc's mouth twitched. These enemy soldiers reminded the medic of his own squad. The one complaining the loudest could've been Kirby.  
  
After the soldiers left, Doc counted to twenty then lifted himself cautiously from the mud. A low moan almost had him diving for cover again, but he caught a flash of movement off to his left. Suddenly, he realized what the argument had been about. The Germans had left a wounded comrade behind.  
  
Checking first to make sure he didn't see a weapon, Doc jumped nimbly over the tree that had provided him sanctuary and walked slowly to kneel next to the wounded man. Although the German eyed him warily, he obviously recognized the mark of the corpsman and relaxed back against the tree where his fellow soldiers had left him.  
  
Peeling back the German's rain gear and uniform, Doc grimaced. It was a bad wound. The man needed an aid station, and there was no way he'd make it on his own. Once more cursing the rain, the medic made quick work of bandaging the wound. When he'd finished, Doc buttoned up the man's uniform and coat, tucking his wounded arm inside for support. Doc sat back on his heels and regarded the German solemnly. "You wouldn't by any chance speak English, would you?"  
  
Not very hopeful, Doc wasn't surprised when the wounded man looked momentarily puzzled. "Ich spreche nicht Englisch. Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"  
  
"I didn't think so. No, I don't sprechen sie Deutsch." With a sigh of frustration, Doc considered his options. Quickly discarding the first choice.of leaving the man behind.he stood and swung his medical bag onto his shoulder. Leaning down, he offered his hand to the German. "Come on, we need to get you to a hospital. Sure wish I had some help."  
  
Pulling the man to his feet, Doc was dismayed to see that the German was nearly of a height as Littlejohn. That was going to make things a little awkward. He started to drape the man's good arm across his own shoulders, but felt him pull away.  
  
"Ich kann ohne hilfe stehen."  
  
Looking up in puzzlement, Doc squinted in the rain. "I don't understand. You'll never make it by yourself, so just let me help you."  
  
"Ich kann ohne hilfe stehen."  
  
Although he didn't understand a word the German was saying, Doc knew pigheadedness when he saw it. "Fine, suit yourself. We won't get very far, but there's no use standing here arguing about it since neither of us knows what the other is saying. Let's go."  
  
Pausing a moment to remember which way he'd been headed before being interrupted, Doc chose a direction then started walking. The German fell into step behind him. It didn't take long, however, for the man to start lagging further and further behind.  
  
Looking back, Doc frowned and started to retrace his steps. He quickened his pace when he saw the German begin to stagger. Doc was able to close the gap and catch the man's weight as he fell, but slipped on the wet leaves. Both men landed in a heap with muffled curses uttered in two different languages.  
  
Untangling himself from the heavier German, Doc brushed at the leaves clinging to hands and cheek. Silently berating himself for letting the wounded man get too far behind, Doc hastily checked the bandages to make sure the fall hadn't caused further injury. With everything as wet as it was, it was hard to tell if there was fresh bleeding, but it seemed if nothing had been made worse.  
  
Grateful for small favors, Doc once again pulled the man to his feet. This time, however, he didn't give the German a choice. Draping an arm over his shoulder, Doc started forward once more. It was awkward at best, with the man being so much taller, but they made progress.  
  
When his shoulders couldn't take the strain anymore, Doc stopped and eased the German to the ground. He made a quick check of the bandages and his brow wrinkled with worry. He was still bleeding.  
  
The wounded German stared into Doc's eyes and read the worry. "Was ist falsch?"  
  
Doc simply shrugged helplessly, unable to understand the question. "Okay, let's start with the basics. I'm Doc. What's your name?"  
  
Sighing when that only got a look of puzzlement, Doc gestured to himself and tried again. "Doc. What's your name?" He pointed to the German, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
  
A tired smile appeared as the wounded man understood what Doc meant. "Ich bin Ernst."  
  
"Ernst? Well, Ernst, we'll rest here for a few minutes, but then we gotta get goin' again. That shoulder's not looking too good." Doc sure hoped they found help soon. Ernst was going to need it.  
  
"Wasser, bitte."  
  
"That's one word I do know." Slipping a canteen from its pouch, Doc unscrewed the top and passed it to Ernst. "Hey, hey, take it slow. Don't drink too much."  
  
Understanding it was an admonition, Ernst took a few slow sips, then passed the canteen back gratefully. "Das ist genug. Danke."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
When he'd judged they'd waited long enough, Doc helped Ernst to his feet and the two resumed their awkward trek. They didn't get as far as Doc would've like before having to rest again. The medic was really beginning to worry. Ernst's wound was still bleeding, and the German was obviously in great pain now.  
  
Easing his burden to the ground, Doc helped Ernst lay back. Hunching over the man's face to protect him from the rain, Doc frowned worriedly. The German moaned steadily, his good hand reaching ineffectually for his wounded shoulder. Doc had to lean closer to catch the mumbled words. "Haben sie Morphium?"  
  
He'd already pulled the tin from his bag when he caught the word morphium. Giving Ernst a reassuring nod, he quickly injected the morphine. It was his last ampoule. He'd used the rest for Trevor. It seemed as if days had passed since he'd buried the fallen American, instead of just that morning.  
  
Just as he was slipping his medical pouch back onto his shoulder and leaning forward to stand, Doc suddenly froze. The rain was stopping. It was almost as if someone had pressed a switch. The downpour slowed to a trickle, the trickle into nothing. The relief was overwhelming. Smiling at Ernst, who stared wearily back, Doc pointed up at the dark, but empty clouds. "It stopped raining! Maybe it won't be so hard going, now."  
  
Ernst was nearing the end of his strength, but mustered a smile for the American who was obviously happy about the lack of precipitation. "Ja, stoppte es zu regnen."  
  
"We'll rest here for a few more minutes, but then we gotta get goin'. We're runnin' outta time." Standing to stretch the kinks out of his back, Doc spun around at a sudden noise to his left. Crouching, the medic made his way silently in the direction from which the sounds had come. He dropped to his knees when he heard the sound of German and caught a flash of uniform.  
  
Slipping away, he made it back to Ernst and knelt in indecision. The wounded German really needed help, but Doc didn't want to end up getting captured. He needed to get the patrol moving toward the injured man. They'd find their comrade and take him to an aid station. Now, how do I get them to find Ernst without find me?  
  
Looking once more at Ernst's pale features, Doc made his decision. Peering around, he spotted a small, plum sized stone a few feet away. Palming the stone, he made his way back to the place where he'd spotted the Germans. He'd toss the rock to get someone's attention, then high tail it in Ernst's direction. They'd see the wounded man, he'd take cover and the Germans would get their comrade and leave. He hoped.  
  
Doc ducked behind a tree when he saw two soldiers standing about twenty yards away. Bouncing the small stone in his hand a few times, the medic took a deep breath and stepped away from the tree. He eyed the distance, took aim between the two men, and threw the rock. The muddy ground betrayed him and he slipped, thwarting his aim. Instead of landing between the two men, the stone pinged off the helmet of the man standing to the left. Oops.  
  
Without waiting to see if his plan worked, Doc took off running. Hopefully, he was leading help straight to Ernst. He passed the bewildered Ernst at a dead run and kept going. Doc had heard the sounds of pursuit behind him and knew the plan had, indeed, worked. There was a clump of bushes fifty feet away from the tree that sheltered the wounded man, and Doc headed directly for it. The medic hit the ground like he was sliding into home for the game-winning play.  
  
Panting shallowly, Doc watched as the two German soldiers, now joined by three others, stumbled to a halt next to Ernst. It had worked. One soldier knelt down to give Ernst a swallow from his canteen. A quiet discussion was taking place between a lieutenant and corporal. The lanky officer shook his head and the corporal gathered the other men together, barking orders.  
  
To Doc's utter disbelief, the soldiers fell into a file and walked toward the west, leaving the wounded man behind. Again. Now what was he going to do? Ernst could no longer walk, even assisted. He was too weak. Doc knew he'd never get 100 yards carrying the bigger man. Who knew if another patrol would wander by any time soon? Waiting could mean Ernst's life.  
  
Without giving himself time to reconsider, Doc stood and ran over to Ernst, shouting for the German's to return. "Wait! This man needs help; you can't just leave him."  
  
The medic stepped away from Ernst as the two were instantly surrounded by the German patrol. The corporal stepped forward, poking at Doc with his rifle. "Hande hoch! Schnell!"  
  
Obeying quickly, Doc swallowed his fear and glanced nervously at Ernst. Holding his hands up, he suffered the hasty removal of his web belt. When he felt the jerk of the strap of his medical bag, however, he protested. "Wait, he's gonna need what's in that."  
  
The corporal raised the butt of the rifle to strike the medic, but halted at the weak shout from Ernst. "Wartezeit! Er half mir. Er konnte mir Wurfel uberlassen haben."  
  
The corporal hesitated a moment, but finally lowered the weapon with small nod. Doc didn't know what Ernst had said, but breathed a sigh of relief at the result. One of the soldiers went through the medical bag, tossing a few items into the mud, then handed it back to Doc.  
  
The lieutenant stood before Ernst and frowned at the wounded man. "Was ist dieses?"  
  
Ernst gestured weakly at the medic, wincing from even such a small movement. "Er stoppte, um mir zu helfen und kummerte sich um meinen Wunden."  
  
When the corporal turned back to look at Doc, the medic was relieved to see less anger in the man's expression. Turning back to his superior, the corporal jerked a thumb in Doc's direction. "Was sollten wir nait ihnen, Leutnant tun?"  
  
Taking a moment to ponder the question, the officer nodded and waved to the others. "Holen Sie sie. Er hann hutz lich sein."  
  
One man gave Doc a shove toward Ernst and pointed his rifle toward the wounded man, then back at the medic. His message was clear. Doc was to carry Ernst.  
  
Getting the wounded German to his feet was a near-impossible task; there was no way Doc would be able to help him alone. "I can't carry him by myself. I need someone to help me."  
  
The German officer had seen the difficulty Ernst was having, and motioned a young man forward, gesturing to Doc. "Helfen Sie ihm."  
  
After a few minutes of charades, Doc and the young soldier lifted Ernst into a chair carry. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable walk.  
  
"Lassen Sie uns gehen." The lieutenant barked the order and the squad headed out. Doc wondered how he was going to find a way out of the situation he'd found himself in. Sarge was never going to believe it.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Looking up from his map when Caje rejoined the squad, Saunders waited for the scout's report. Shaking his head, Caje smiled. "No sign of Germans, Sarge. We've got to cross a bridge, but then we can cut across this field." He pointed it out on the sergeant's map. "The weeds are real high, so that will give us cover if we need it. We could follow the stream, but it's pretty swollen from all this rain and might make it difficult. Someone could slip and break an ankle."  
  
Nodding at Caje's summary of the situation, Saunders refolded the map and slipped it back in his pocket. He hoped it would prove to be as quiet as it looked. "Caje-point. Kirby-rear. Let's move it."  
  
When the squad reached the edge of the trees near the point where they'd have to leave cover to cross the bridge, the men halted. Motioning for everyone to hit the ground, Saunders cast a wary eye over the bridge and road. Just as he spotted a German patrol emerging from the trees on the other side, he felt a hand tighten around his wrist.  
  
"Sarge, look." Caje shot his sergeant a look of total disbelief. "It's Doc!"  
  
The whole squad watched in concern as their medic appeared from the trees, helping to carry a wounded German. Shoving aside the questions of how Doc came to be at this place at this moment, Saunders rapidly began running through plans to get the medic back.  
  
The sergeant felt a poke from the BAR as Kirby sidled up next to him. "Sarge, what're we gonna do? We gotta get Doc back."  
  
"I know that, Kirby. Let's wait and see what they do when they get to the bridge."  
  
Patience wasn't exactly one of Kirby's virtues. He kept a tight grip on the BAR and watched as a scout was sent across the bridge. Another German headed across the bridge then motioned for Doc and the young soldier to follow. Now was the chance.  
  
His mind racing, Saunders hastily whispered instructions. "Caje, you and Littlejohn take the two Germans on the far side of the bridge. Make your shots count. The rest of us go for the two on this side. Doc will have to take care of the rest. Let's go."  
  
Without warning, the Americans burst from their concealment, weapons firing. The bridge erupted in chaos.  
  
When he saw one of his comrades in front of him fall, the German helping Doc dropped his burden and went for his weapon. The medic had all he could do to keep Ernst from hitting the ground. Grabbing the wounded man's belt, Doc felt the bridge's stone railing bump the back of his legs. Doing the only thing he could think of to save them both, he lunged for the railing and toppled into the water, taking Ernst with him.  
  
The young German brought his weapon up too late. The American had gone over the side. His comrades on the far side were both dead and the enemy was running for the bridge. Realizing he was the only one left alive, his nerve broke and he ran.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
Outdistancing the others, Kirby cut down the German officer before he could get to the bridge. Everything seemed to happen at once. Kirby watched as two bodies tumbled over the side into the water. One by one, three other Germans fell. The last soldier took off, made it safely across the bridge and veered off into the field. That's when the young man's luck ran out.  
  
To Kirby's amazement, the German soldier was suddenly killed in an explosion as he ran through the high weeds. Mines! Stumbling to a halt, he realized how close they'd all come to being killed if they had crossed that field. Kirby looked around for Saunders and spotted him trying to help Doc from the water.  
  
"Doc, you okay? Were you trying to break your neck?" Saunders helped Doc drag the wounded German from the water and onto solid ground.  
  
Coughing from the mouthful of water he'd gotten when they hit, Doc wiped blood from his nose. The impact with the water had slammed his face into Ernst's head. He looked the wounded man over, relieved that nothing had been broken or further damaged by the fall. It was a miracle.  
  
"I'm okay, Sarge. This guy's sure been through the wringer, though." Looking up into his sergeant's relieved face, Doc smiled. "What are you guys doing here, anyway?"  
  
"I was about to ask you the same thing." Both men looked up when the others joined them.  
  
Billy was the first to voice the question they all had. "Doc, where's Trevor?"  
  
The look on the medic's face was all they needed to know what had happened. "He died about sunrise this morning." Had it only been that morning? "I tried to get back, but it was raining so hard, I couldn't tell which way I was headed. I got off track and ran into Ernst, here. His squad left him behind and I did the best I could, but he needs a hospital. The only way to get him to one, was to surrender."  
  
Shaking his head in wonderment, Kirby laughed. "Well, Doc, I for one am very glad you happened to be right here at this moment." Giving Saunders a meaningful look, Kirby jerked his head toward the bridge. "Kid ran across that field and got killed. It's mined."  
  
"We were going to cut across that field to reach an OP." Saunders explained, seeing the puzzled look on Doc's face. "Talk about being in the right place at the right time, Doc."  
  
Littlejohn smiled and gave Kirby a playful shove. "Just goes to show there's a reason for everything."  
  
Before the two could get into a shoving match, Saunders sent them off to find the makings of a litter. "Caje, get on the radio and let Lt. Hanley know what's going on. They need to know that the field's mined, and see about getting an ambulance or jeep out here to get Doc and the German. Nelson, take a look around."  
  
Removing his canteen, Doc handed it to Ernst, who smiled gratefully. "Danke." When he'd had his fill, Ernst returned the canteen.  
  
"You're welcome." Slipping the container back in its pouch, Doc looked up to see Ernst holding his hand out.  
  
"Doktor. Freunde?" At the look of confusion on the American's face, Ernst tried again. "Freunde? Kamerad?"  
  
Clasping the man's hand, returning the weak handshake, Doc nodded. "Yeah. Friend."  
  
Glancing around at the others.Caje on the radio; Littlejohn and Kirby clumsily trying to make a litter; Billy walking over to report to the sergeant, who was looking over his map.Doc pondered Littlejohn's words. Just goes to show there's a reason for everything.  
  
Maybe there was.  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
END 


End file.
